


the rest is missing

by averzierlia



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: BDSM, D/s, Dom!Charles, M/M, Sub!Erik
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-30
Updated: 2011-06-30
Packaged: 2017-10-20 21:41:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/217371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/averzierlia/pseuds/averzierlia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shaw gave Erik a really fucked sense of self-worth, and also a really fucked up conception of BDSM. Charles corrects both of these problems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the rest is missing

**Author's Note:**

> I abused google translate for Erik's safeword, so if it's wrong I'm very sorry.

“I want you to hurt me,” Erik says, on his knees in Charles study before the chess board, eyes firmly on the floor.

“Judging from your posture, I’d say you want quite a bit more than that,” Charles says, and Erik risks glancing up through his lashes to check Charles’ expression, only to find the other man watching him steadily. Erik flinches and lowers his eyes quickly.

He wants to say _stay out of my head_ wants to say _just give me what I need and take what you want_ wants to be a good sub and hear Charles tell him he’s a good boy. But he knows better. He knows he’s not going to say or get any of those things. He knows that this, asking Charles to hurt him, offering himself, isn’t going to change anything, isn’t going to help. But it’s all he knows, and he’s drifting without a purpose, in more danger of drowning now than when he was trying and failing to _pull_ the submarine.

“What are you thinking?” Charles murmurs, and Erik starts in surprise. He hadn’t really expected Charles to stay out of his mind like he’d asked, hadn’t expected him to not take Erik’s request as permission.

Charles seems to be waiting for an answer, and Erik risks another glance through his lashes. Charles sighs when he flicks his eyes back down a scant second later.

“You can answer,” Charles says, and Erik nods without looking up.

“Can’t you…” Erik trails off, uncertain of how to finish his sentence. Can’t he read it, hear it, see it?

“You asked me to leave your mind alone, Erik. What you’re asking for doesn’t change that,” Charles says, and Erik can _hear_ the smile in his voice.

“Don’t you read the minds of your subs?” Erik blurts out, which wasn’t what he was planning to say. He blushes in mortification and ducks his head, expecting to be punished for speaking out of turn.

“Why would I do that?” Charles asks, sounding surprised, but Erik doesn’t lift his head. “I wouldn’t be much of a dom if I couldn’t tell what my subs needed unless I used my telepathy.”

Erik grits his teeth and nods his head shallowly, holding the apology he desperately wants to give on his tongue. He knows better. He _does_. That doesn’t stop him from wanting to truly please Charles, in a way he never wanted to please Schmidt.

“What is your safeword?” Charles asks in what seems to be an abrupt change of subject, and the unfamiliar word has Erik’s head jerking up to look at Charles.

His confusion must be unmistakable because Charles takes in a single, shallow, startled breath and leans forward in his chair and grips Erik’s chin.

“You don’t have a safeword,” Charles says flatly, and Erik would have be much stupider than he is to know that it’s not a question.

So he shakes his head as much as he can with Charles fingers tight on his chin, ignoring the spike of _want_ at being restrained even this much, and confesses “I don’t even know that is.”

Charles eyes darken and his fingers tighten even further, causing Erik to sway into the pressure.

“Every time I think I can’t possibly hate Shaw more,” Charles says darkly, voice practically a growl, and it sends a fission of longing down Erik’s spine. _This_ is why he had come to Charles.

“A safeword is word that a sub uses when things become too much and they want things to stop,” Charles says, voice low and intent. “Pick one.”

“Why would I get to say when anything stops?” Erik asks blankly, forgetting to be afraid of the consequences of speaking out of turn. Erik can _feel_ the anger leaking off Charles at his question, and he doesn’t understand it.

“I don’t understand,” Erik says, the familiar feeling of shame making him drop his eyes. “I’m not, I’m just a sub. I’ll belong to you while we do this, isn’t that the point? You can do whatever you want to me.”

“You’re not _just_ anything Erik,” Charles says, dropping his fingers from Erik’s chin, and Erik can’t help but feeling disappointed at the loss of contact.

Erik shakes his head without thinking. This, what Charles is doing, isn’t how it’s supposed to go. “I’m nothing,” Erik says, stumbling over the words in his haste to get them out, to make Charles understand that he knows how this works, that Charles doesn’t have to pretend to be interested in his well being. _This isn’t the way it works_.

Charles leans back in his chair, expression unreadable, and Erik sways forward, wanting to be closer. If he’s closer, that means that Charles accepts, it means that he’ll be used, and then everything would make sense again.

“Come here,” Charles says, and Erik knee walks over to him, stopping when he’s in between Charles’ spread legs.

Charles reaches out his hand and Erik tenses, expecting a slap, but instead he feels Charles gently cupping his face and running fingers up into his hair, gripping lightly. Charles uses his grip to draw Erik down so that Erik’s face is resting against his knee, and Erik relaxes involuntarily into the contact, rearranging himself so he’s sitting at Charles’ feet. He tries not to think about how much he likes being there.

“You’ve offered yourself to me, and I’ve accepted. That makes you mine until I decide otherwise, is that how this works for you?” Charles asks, and Erik is glad he has his eyes closed, even though he doesn’t know when that happened, because the way Charles says that last part makes it sound…dirty.

Erik starts to nod his head, but Charles fingers tighten to the point of pain, stopping him.

“You will answer me _out loud_ and _immediately_ when I ask you a question, Erik,” Charles snaps, voice a whip of command.

“Yes,” Erik says, “yes, that’s how it works.”

“Then you will listen to me, because right now, my word is your law,” Charles says, and his voice still has that bite of command but it’s gentler somehow.

“Your submission is a gift,” Charles says, and Erik’s world has narrowed to two points; Charles’ hand carding through his hair and Charles’ voice. “I may be a dom, your dom, but it’s my job to _take care of you_. It’s my job to be responsible for you, to give you what you _need_ and not what you think you want. And when I take care of you, you’re going to become what I need, not because it’s your _job_ or your _responsibility_ , but because you _want to_. When you’re mine, you don’t belong to the world, you belong to me.”

Erik knows then that Charles must have seen the memories of his time as Schmidt’s sub, must have seen the way that Erik was responsible for finding out what Schmidt wanted and that it was his job to give it to him. And that if he didn’t get it right he was punished, given to the soldiers to use however they wanted, as long as they didn’t kill him.

Erik flinches against Charles’ leg, appalled at the fact that he sullied Charles, beautiful, idealistic, pure Charles with the horrors of his past.

“Shh, Erik,” Charles says soothingly, and Erik knows that Charles isn’t reading his mind, can follow his train of thought without it, and the thought that Charles is so in tune with him after less than ten minutes makes him choke back a sob. This isn’t what he’d been taught to expect. The way Charles describes it, it sound like something special, something to take joy in.

“I don’t know what you want me to do,” Erik says tiredly, feeling more drained after hearing Charles tell him how this is supposed to work than he ever was after whatever Schmidt did to him.

“I want you to pick a safeword,” Charles says softly, leaning down to press a kiss on Erik’s temple and Erik doesn’t think he’s earned that, but he’s beginning to realize that it’s not up to him to decide what he’s earned or deserves. The thought doesn’t fill him with fear, like it always did before.

“Segen,” Erik finally says, after several long moments of thought.

“All right,” Charles said agreeably. He let go of Erik’s hair and shifted his knee, which Erik took as his cue to get up.

He wobbles a bit, unsure of his balance, dizzy with revelation that for the first time in his life, he was submitting to someone who would take care of him.

“My room, and when you get there, strip and into the bed,” Charles says, standing and stretching. Erik’s eyes linger on the line of Charles’ body before the instructions register. He nods.

“Yes sir,” he says softly and obeys.

As he navigates the succession of corridors and stairs to Charles’ room, he’s comforted by the way he can feel the metal of Charles’ clothes following not far behind him. When they finally make it to Charles room he doesn’t even wait for Charles to finish shutting the door before stripping off his clothes. He feels the snick of the lock as he finishes stripping, and then Charles’ hand is resting lightly on the small of his back, not pushing, not guiding, just there.

Tension Erik didn’t know he had slips from his muscles, and he takes a soft breath and leans back into it.

“Bed,” Charles murmurs, removing his hand to slip out of his own clothes. Erik obeys, sliding into the bed and under the covers, curling up in the center, soft sheets comfortable on his skin.

He watches Charles out of the corner of his eye, taking in the lithe body as he strips, and appreciating for the first time the muscles that move under Charles’ skin as he pads naked over to the bed, looking like nothing so much as a lion. He curls back into Charles’ body when Charles slips into the bed next to him, draping an arm over Erik’s hip, between Erik and the door. Erik can’t help the selfish wish of remaining like this forever, because for the first time since his family was dragged from their home and into the camp, he feels safe.

“Just sleep tonight, Erik,” Charles soothes a hand over Erik’s hip and whispers into his neck. “Sleep where I can watch over you.”

Erik closes his eyes, and after a few moments is already close to the edge of sleep.

But before he can completely drift off, Charles hums into the back of his neck and tightens his fingers slightly on his hip.

“Your safeword,” Charles asks, “what does it mean? I don’t recognize the word.”

Erik lets himself smile. “Benediction.”


End file.
